


hoes of passion

by amamiyaren



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Erogenous Zones, Frottage, Hickies, I'm sorry in advance., M/M, just guys being dudes, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amamiyaren/pseuds/amamiyaren
Summary: “Check this out, dude!” Ryuji beams, with the force of ten trillion suns, brandishing his phone out to Akira, who squints, trying to read the small-ass text on the screen.Akira gives in to the distance and stands up, plopping down on the bed, moving Ryuji’s legs so he can sit down. “Lemme see.”He skims the text, skipping over all adjectives, only pulling out what’s necessary from the text. It’s from a slightly shady website catered to either horny teenagers or confused virgins. Akira feels as if Ryuji fits into both categories well enough.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 26
Kudos: 325





	hoes of passion

**Author's Note:**

> "what's with the title" my friend misread "throes of passion" as "hoes of passion" and it made me laugh

Akira feels like it’s a little bit weird to work on lockpicks without Morgana around, but the second his roommate heard that Ryuji was coming over, he skedaddled off to Futaba’s house, something about not wanting to be witness to the blonde’s sleeping crimes, AKA going to bed past 9PM. He fiddles with the delicate metals, holding his breath as he carefully, _carefully--_

_“Dude!”_

The lockpick Akira's working on slips out of his hands, clattering to the ground, breaking almost instantaneously. Awesome. He turns to the source of the noise. His best friend, his right hand man, his partner in crime, his Chariot, one Sakamoto Ryuji.

Ryuji jolts up on Akira’s bed where he’d been laying on his side for a good couple of… hours, probably. He’s staring at something on his phone, eyes wide. Whatever it is, it must be interesting. Or at the very least shocking, considering his sudden yell.

Akira figures it’s a good thing Morgana wasn’t around, actually, because Ryuji's shout being the cause of the lockpick's untimely demise would definitely end up in an argument between the two--the cat-not-cat and the blonde, that is.

Still, though--Akira spares at glance at his best friend, examining his beaming expression--it felt pretty much worth it. Seeing that grin brightened his day instantly, even if it had come at the cost of losing 1 (one) lockpick. Worth it! Probably. 

Akira wonders if it really is worth it. Over time, he'd learned to read Ryuji’s face. Of course, it wasn't that hard to do--Ryuji wore his heart on his sleeve, transparent about most things he felt--but Akira knew him well enough to spot a familiar sort of mischievousness lurking in his best friend's eyes.

In any case, though, he looks down at the failed lockpick. Thankfully, the pieces hadn't scattered too far apart, but they did seem to be totally unusable now.

“Fuck _me_ ,” Akira curses, picking up the metal from the ground. Yup. Ruined. Great. “What’s up, Ryuji?”

“Uhh,” Ryuji blinks at him for a second, in reaction to Akira's choice of swears, the tips of his ears a little bit pink. “Oh, right--wait, did I just fuck that up for you? Sorry, man.” He gestures to the lockpick, scratching the back of his neck, ashamed.

“Nah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Akira reassures him, setting the broken parts back on the desk. He turns around, facing his best friend fully, arms resting over the back of his chair. “What’s up?”

“Check this _out,_ dude!” Ryuji beams, with the force of ten trillion suns, brandishing his phone out to Akira, who squints, trying to read the small-ass text on the screen. 

He gives in to the distance and stands up, plopping down on the bed, moving Ryuji’s legs so he can sit down. “Lemme see.” 

Akira skims the text, skipping over all adjectives, only pulling out what’s necessary from the text. It’s from a slightly shady website catered to either horny teenagers or confused virgins. Akira feels as if Ryuji fits into both categories well enough.

“Erogenous zones?” He asks, rereading the text, this time more carefully. It’s just a list of possible erogenous zones and weirdly descriptive text about how to find them and more importantly: how to make _use_ of them. It’s not explicitly sexual, but it is decidedly raunchy, and not something you should read in a public place. Or, for that matter, in your friend's bedroom. 

Then again, their friendship was always just like that. There weren't any real boundaries between the two of them. No need for that, really. Once you see someone awaken to the literal manifestation of their soul, well… 

Still though, for humors' sake--or just to mess with Ryuji--Akira opts to pick the low hanging joke that's dangling in the forefront of his brain.

“ _Wow._ What kind of things are you reading in my bed, Ryuji?”

“Aw, shaddup!” Ryuji replies, shaking his head. “C’mon, dude! This is totally important information--I know you said you aren’t interested in dating, but--c’mon, this information’s bound to be useful at some point, right? Riiiiiight?” 

Akira doesn’t know if he agrees or not, but he nods his head anyways. “Okay, but what exactly do you want me to do about it?” 

This just seems like information you read, shove away, and then forget once it’s actually relevant, and only remember it a day later when you jolt up in a cold sweat and remember your incompetence and then proceed to die of shame.

 _An oddly specific example,_ a little voice in the back of his head says, popping up out of nowhere. More than likely, it's one of Akira's many Personas. It speaks in an amused and smug tone, voice echoing in the thief's ears. _Are you speaking from experience?_

Akira doesn't bother trying to figure out exactly which one of his masks was talking to him right now. But anyway--I am thou, thou art I and all that shit. Shouldn't whichever Persona it was--Akira has a nagging feeling it's one of the Succubi, Lilim, Lillith, or Succubus herself--shouldn't it know the answer? What point was there in asking?

 _Shut up_ , he replies, promptly drop-kicking the snarky voice into the back of the list of voices he's prioritizing listening to. Naturally, Ryuji is first in line. Akira tunes back in.

“Listen, I got a great idea! So, when we eventually get ourselves girlfriends or whatever--”

Akira can feel himself raise a brow at Ryuji’s words. The black haired thief had already come to a decent enough acceptance of his own sexuality, and his ability to feel attraction regardless of gender, but Ryuji didn’t seem ready to accept that about himself yet, so the _‘or whatever,’_ was… interesting, to say the least.

“--We’ll totally wanna bust out some sweet experienced moves, yeah? So, my idea is--you listenin’, bro? This is important! Trust me--it’s totally gonna work! Like, listen, dude, my ideas might not always be the best, but I know for _sure_ that this one is top notch, and--”

Akira wonders where exactly this is going. He has a faint idea. Maybe it’s time to ready his hand so he can slap the ‘no homo’ button so hard and fast his wrist breaks. Speaking of hard and fast, Ryuji’s still speaking, a mile a minute, and it clicks in Akira’s head that he should probably be paying attention instead of getting lost in the theoretical idea of a no homo button and how useful it'd be.

“--So, basically, we can just practice on each other! Finding erogenous zones, I mean! Great idea, right?” 

“Huh,” Akira replies, like the absolute genius he is. In his defense, it’s not like he could have expected that answer. Actually, maybe he should have. Ryuji’s Ryuji, after all, and it’s very… Ryuji to suggest something like this. “I mean, sure, I'm not opposed or anything, but… how is that supposed to be helpful?”

The blonde pauses. “Uhhh, I ‘unno, like, it’ll be easier for us to notice their reactions ‘n shit, right? Isn’t there all that stuff on the internet about how girls’ll fake it? We wanna avoid that, yeah? So we gotta get good first, but we can’t get good without practice!”

Sound enough logic, but…

“Well, I guess I’m fine with it, but…" He fiddles with a stray curl, rubbing it between his fingers. “This is gonna involve us touching each other, dude.”

“I mean, yeah, how else are we gonna find it? Magic? Not like either of us have telekinesis or some shit. Unless you do and you’re hiding it from me. Or _I_ have it, and I haven’t discovered it yet.”

“I think summoning Personas in a whole other world might be enough magic for me, thanks.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but anyways,” Ryuji waves his hand in the air, completely and kind of weirdly unbothered by the whole thing. “It’s just practice, yeah? So if one of us pops a boner it’s not, like, _that_ big a deal, right? It's not weird unless we make it weird.” 

Welp, Akira can't argue with that.

“It's only weird if we make it weird.” Akira agrees, nodding his head and the blonde grins back. “Okay, well…” He outstretches his hand to Ryuji, who takes it. Sitting across from each other on top of Akira's kinda shitty bed, they shake hands. "Preemptive no homo?"

“Preemptive no homo.” 

Akira can’t help but notice how tight Ryuji’s grip is, so basically they’re off to a totally heterosexual start to this totally heterosexual practice session for finding erogenous zones. 

Though, Akira’s already aware of one of his own. He doesn’t know if he should pray that Ryuji _doesn’t_ find it, or if he should pray that Ryuji _does_ find it.

Yup, Akira's already confused. This is a great start.

“Uhh, so how are we gonna do this?” The blonde asks, and Akira makes a face at him in response. “Don’t make that face, dude! It’s not like I’ve done this before, how am I gonna know how to start?”

“It was your idea, though!” Akira fires back, giving Ryuji’s shoulder a light shove. He returns it, and they smack shoulders for a few minutes. “Well, that didn’t do anything for me.” He says, voice so deadpan and flat that Ryuji just stares at him in disbelief for a couple of seconds.

“Wait, were we already started?” 

“I was kinda joking.” Akira replies. “So… who should start?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Like, who should start touching the other first? Or are we going to take turns touching each other in the same place, like--I touch your neck and then you touch mine, sort of thing, y’know? I’m fine with either way, though.”

“Switchin’ up who’s touching who seems like it’ll keep things interestin’, but we wanna be able to ravish our girl in attention, yeah? So maybe we should just do it one at a time. I’m fine goin’ either first or second, too.”

Akira twirls his finger around a curl, tugging gently at it. “Rock paper scissors, then?”

“Aight. Bring it on!”

* * *

In a shocking turn of events, Akira won, two out of three. Ryuji stares at his hand like it’s offended him somehow, and Akira barks out a laugh. 

“Okay, okay, so I’m going first. Here, you should, like--” He pauses for a second, examining his best friend. “I dunno. What’s the easiest position to do this in? Wait, I have an idea, just--” Akira does a bunch of weird gestures that Ryuji can’t follow, and eventually just settles for pulling his best friend to sit at the edge of the bed.

Gears turn in Akira’s head. Good thing he went first. He can try and manipulate--well, not _manipulate_ the situation, but just--work it so that Ryuji doesn’t find out his actual weak point because he’d probably die. Wait. Is that unfair? Akira doesn’t know.

“Hold on, lemme get my phone, we need the list.” Ryuji bends with his back flat on the bed, reaching for his phone. It takes a couple seconds, but eventually, he gets it. Akira snorts. “You coulda helped me, y’know! You’re standing!”

“It’s more fun this way. Gimme.” Akira takes the phone from Ryuji’s hands, scrolling all the way to the end of the page so he can do things from the bottom up. He gnaws at his lip, eyes scanning the list.

_If I start from the bottom, I’m bound to find something before I reach my own weak point, and then if I don’t touch him there, he might not think of it and just skip past it. Yeah. That’s gonna work. Probably._

“Okay, take your pants off.” 

Ryuji chokes on air. “Fuckin--what?! How did we go to this, dude?!” But his fingers rest on the edge of his sweatpants and Akira raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not weird unless you make it weird, remember? I’ve seen your dick before! Besides,” Akira gestures to Ryuji’s phone. “It says here that thighs are a pretty common one, and I really doubt you can feel anything through your sweats.” 

“...Eh, fair enough.” Ryuji pulls his sweatpants off, chucking them on the ground. “Wait, you take yours off too. I don't wanna be the only one pantsless!”

“M’kay.” Akira shoves his pajama pants next to Ryuji’s, and he’s struck by the sudden gratefulness that it’s just the two of them, and has to fight back laughter at the idea of trying to explain to Morgana what in the fresh hell they were doing. “S-sorry, it’s just-- _pfft_ \--” He says, through laughs, clutching his stomach.

“What?” Ryuji asks, looking a little offended at Akira’s sudden outburst of hysterical laughter.

“I-I’m just--” Akira tries to remember how to breathe, traitorous brain conjuring up Morgana’s theoretical expressions, which doesn’t help his current quest in _not laughing._ “God--it’s a really good thing Morgana isn’t here, because--y’know, explaining it…!” _God,_ his fucking sides ache, and now Ryuji’s clearly imagining it, because he laughs too, and now they’re both laughing, completely breathless, losing their goddamn minds over Akira’s cat being utterly scandalized by their weird teenage decisions.

“O-oh, my god--why is imagining his face so fuckin’ funny, dude?” Ryuji wheezes out, wiping a tear away. “He’d just fuckin’ take one look at us and walk out!” 

Akira clears his throat, doing his best imitation of his cat, “ _‘When I said you should go to bed earlier that wasn’t what I meant! And you’ll get cold if you’re not wearing your pants! What’s an erogenous zone, anyway?!’_ ” 

His impression, over-exaggerated but still accurate, only makes the two of them laugh harder, if that’s even possible. They’re both near tears, laughing so hard their ribs ache. It takes a good few minutes before their laughter subsides, Akira taking off his glasses to swipe the wetness off with his shirt.

“That was way funnier than it deserved to be.” He says, trying to fight a smile. “Okay, let’s get back to it, and--wait.” Akira suddenly realizes he’s not sure what position he should be in while doing this. Standing? Sitting? On his knees? Wait. _Waaaait._ Wait.

He circles through a couple before eventually settling on his knees, adjusting so that he’s comfortable, hoping his knees don’t end up bruised from the shitty hardwood. When Akira looks up at his best friend, however, he sees that Ryuji is pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” Akira says, with a frown. He parts Ryuji’s legs with his hands, not really caring about how it looks. “It’s not weird unless you make it weird, right?”

“Yeah, but, dude, the way you’re sittin’ is like…” He gives a vague gesture with his hand near his mouth. Akira _gets_ it and laughs, low and breathy, flashing his best friend a wink, which probably doesn’t help him at all, if the deepening blush on his cheeks is any indicator. Ryuji gives Akira a shove in the ribs with his foot. “Oh my god, dude, you’re horrible. Hurry up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” He apologizes, but he’s not really sorry. Akira glances up at Ryuji again. They hold eye contact for a second and the light, amused air that hangs in the air has changed into something heavy but not uncomfortable. Just… tense, in a very specific way. “Okay. Touching now.” 

He strokes Ryuji’s inner left thigh with the pad of his pointer finger, glancing up at his best friend every so often to gauge his reactions. Ryuji twitches, but it’s hard to tell exactly why. Akira rubs soft circles into the skin on his best friend’s thighs. He runs his fingers up and down, inching closer in between Ryuji’s legs--

He feels a hand in his hair, gently tugging at soft, black curls.

“Ryuji,” Akira says, softly, looking up at the blonde. “Did I find one already?” 

This gets a laugh and an eye roll. Ryuji suddenly seems aware of the position of his hands, retracting, pulling out of the grip he has on Akira’s hair. 

_Kind of a shame,_ Akira thinks, distantly. _It felt kinda nice._

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” Ryuji replies, and that’s answer enough for Akira. “...Keep goin’ down the list, then?” 

“Mmm,” He hums, running his fingernails across Ryuji’s thighs again, just to watch him squirm. Akira narrows his eyes, staring at his best friend’s skin, the deep golden way more tempting than it should have been. Ryuji’s muscle had more than come back, as evident in the strength visible in his thighs. Akira realizes he’s getting distracted. “Right. Next… Oh, I guess maybe back of the knees should have come first.”

“Maybe.” Ryuji says, a little distantly, his voice a little bit too quiet.

Akira pauses, reaching up, sitting up on his knees to poke Ryuji’s cheek. “You okay? Wanna stop?” 

“No, it’s just--no, I don’t. Let’s keep goin’, yeah?” He laughs, poking Akira’s cheek back.

“Okay. Tell me if you wanna stop though, okay?” Akira waits for Ryuji to nod, and then continues. He gets back down on his knees--sitting on his feet more than anything else--and gently touches the back of Ryuji’s knees. He looks up, trying to gauge a reaction, but… nothing.

“Meh.” Ryuji replies, with a shrug. 

“Yeah.” Akira nods. “I’m skipping the toes and feet. I don’t wanna.” 

The blonde snorts at that. “Chicken.” 

“What, you’re planning on touching mine?”

“...Fair enough, man.”

“I’m also gonna skip the obvious stuff, like your dick.” He says, plainly, and Ryuji splutters but Akira just keeps going. “Next, uhhh… Oh. Stomach and… ribs? Okay, here, can you, like--just, lift your shirt up?”

“How far?” Ryuji asks, and Akira scans the text.

“Depends. You want me touching your nipples or no?” 

“ _Dude._ ”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Akira replies, flailing slightly. Ryuji just shakes his head and lifts his shirt up, pulling it all the way off and dropping it in the pile of their clothes. 

Oh, well, _that_ answers the question.

Akira sits up on his knees again, eyes making his way across Ryuji’s body and--wow, this is the most heterosexual thing he’s ever done, yup--and he lifts his hands, pretending they’re not shaking, and places them on Ryuji’s stomach and leaves them there for a second.

“Not doin’ anything for me, man.” Ryuji snorts, looking amused at the look on Akira’s face.

“I wasn’t trying anything yet!” Akira shoots back. “The nerve of you, really.” He sticks his tongue out at his best friend, who sticks his tongue out back and--man, man, man, _man._

Akira had sworn off romance because it didn’t feel right, it felt _irresponsible,_ reckless, even--because he was the _Leader_ of the Phantom Thieves and choosing favorites was irresponsible and could end up with favoritism, or his team in a bad situation or tensions between the Thieves--so, romance was a no go in his brain, but…

What about this? But this was just practice, right? And this wasn’t romance, was it? This was… something. Something else.

But. _But._

Despite everything, Akira’s not sure he’s ever felt more inclined to kiss someone in his whole entire life, which, granted, in the broad scope of things wasn’t actually that long, but _still._

He settles for touching, running his fingers up and down Ryuji’s ribcage, nails grazing against skin Akira’s used to seeing, used to looking at, but not used to touching in this way. He curls his hands around Ryuji’s hips, gripping gently, with just enough pressure, not too much, not too little.

Akira sees Ryuji’s bellybutton and tries to will himself into not poking it. But he used all his impulse control on not kissing Ryuji. This is where he fails, poking Ryuji’s bellybutton with his finger. 

Ryuji splutters, covering his stomach with his hands. “What the ‘eff?! No fuckin’ way that’s an erogenous zone!”

“It’s not on the website, at least.” Akira admits, laughing. “I was just tempted. Sorry. Moving on.” 

“You’re so frickin’ weird sometimes, man. Who gets tempted to poke a bellybutton?”

“Me.” Akira replies. He scrolls further through the list. Next was… “Gimme your hands.”

“You sound like a burglar.” Ryuji snorts, extending his hands to Akira, who takes them. “The hands are kinda weird, though. Like, what if it does feel good? Does that mean you can’t touch things without it feelin’ good? That’d totally make you pop one in public.”

“I don’t think it’d be just having them touched randomly.” Akira stares at his best friend’s hands, turning them over so that the palms are facing upward. He looks up at Ryuji, makes eye contact as he strokes the palms of Ryuji’s hands with his fingertips. “Anything?”

“Kinda ticklish, actually. It doesn’t feel bad, but it’s not like…” He gives a vague gesture. “Y’know?”

“I see…” Akira replies, running his fingers down further, down to Ryuji’s wrist. The blonde had already taken off his bracelets a while ago, after they’d gone to the bathhouse hours before. “No?” 

“Meh.” Ryuji shrugs. “A little bit tingly, I guess.”

Akira hums, grazing his nails down Ryuji’s skin. His gaze goes back to the blonde’s fingers, and he pauses, remembering something written in the blurb talking about erogenous zones in the fingers. Something about using your tongue… “You’ve washed your hands, right?”

“Yeah? Why does everyone ask me that? Washin’ your hands is important, dude. Don’t think I don’t know that! I’m a clean guy!” 

Akira sort of doubts it but that doesn’t stop him from pressing his lips against Ryuji’s fingers. He’s back to sitting on his knees, examining Ryuji’s fingers closely. “You might have guessed already, but these are going in my mouth.”

“Y-you can’t just say shit like that, dude…” Ryuji replies, one hand pressed into his face, trying to cover the bright red blush on his face, his ears, creeping down his neck. “You just can’t talk about putting stuff in your mouth while sitting on your knees like that. ‘M pretty sure that’s illegal in at least one country, man…”

“I’m a phantom thief, though.” Akira counters, a playful grin making its way onto his lips. “So what if it’s illegal? The only thing I care about is if you’re okay with it, Ryuji.” 

They meet eyes. They hold eye contact. Weirdly enough, in this moment, time seems to stop.

“Yeah.” Ryuji says, softly. He nods his head, the flush on his cheeks made more evident by his sheepish expression. “Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

And that’s how Akira ends up pulling Ryuji’s fingers closer, pressing another kiss to the tips of them. Slowly, _slowly,_ he opens his mouth, taking the digits in. Ryuji’s hands taste like… soap, mostly. A hint of sweat. But the taste slowly starts to fade, overwhelmed by the taste of coffee lurking in Akira’s mouth. 

He takes in another finger, gently swirling his tongue around Ryuji’s fingers, tasting him, sucking him, taking him in. A few minutes pass--or maybe a few seconds, Akira isn’t quite sure--and he takes in another finger. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks back up at Ryuji, who’s still covering his face with his free hand, breaths coming out in soft pants. 

Akira pulls away, removing Ryuji’s fingers from his mouth. He swallows the saliva that’s pooled up in his mouth, wiping his face with his left hand. “Was it still _just_ ticklish?”

Ryuji silently shakes his head and Akira feels way more accomplished than he should be allowed to feel.

“Good.” Akira finds himself saying, and then glances back at the list. Only… two left, and one of them he was going to do his damnedest to skip right over. “Okay. Now we have… Uh, hm.” He pauses, trying to figure out how he can get in the right position for this. Sitting up on his knees doesn’t work, standing up seems too looming and menacing, and sitting next to Ryuji doesn’t seem like it’ll provide the angle Akira’s looking for.

“What’s up?” Ryuji asks, seemingly gaining back some of his composure. He’s breathing mostly normally again, at least. 

“Next is neck, but I don’t really know what position to get in.” Akira explains, and Ryuji thinks for a minute, but eventually, there’s a sudden glint in his eyes and he smacks his lap with his hands. “What?”

“C’mere! In my lap. I can scoot back a little bit so you don’t, like, fall off.”

Akira has no fucking clue how to respond to this. He settles for following Ryuji’s idea, crawling into his best friend’s lap. He wraps his legs around Ryuji’s waist, arms around his neck, folded hands resting on the blonde’s back. “If you drop me, I’m telling Morgana.”

“Hey! I wouldn’t drop you on purpose, y’know.”

Akira snorts. “Yeah, yeah. So, um, let’s see…” He runs through the information he’d got from the website, the words circling around in his brain. Tentatively, he brushes his fingers across Ryuji’s neck. The blonde immediately jolts, nearly sending Akira flying off his lap. “Are you okay?”

Ryuji’s wide eyed. “Y-yeah, fine, it’s just… that felt… weird?”

“Weird as in bad or weird as in good?” 

“...Good, I think?”

Akira nods at this, not sure his voice could hold back what he was actually thinking. He leans in again, grazing his fingers across Ryuji’s neck again, but with more pressure this time. He doesn’t miss how Ryuji twitches, and an idea roots in his brain. “Hey, Ryuji?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“...Okay.”

Akira leans in, kissing Ryuji’s neck. He feels the blonde shudder at this, hears his breath hitch. He opts to be more daring--he’s the leader of the Phantom Thieves, after all--and swipes his tongue across his best friend’s skin. This earns a gasp, and Akira’s left conjuring up the many, many ways he can get more noises like that out of Ryuji. 

He has an idea. He nips at Ryuji’s neck, gently gnawing--not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a bruise. He softly sucks at the skin and is rewarded with a soft moan falling out of the blonde’s lips and--

Hhhholy motherfucking shit, Akira thinks as that noise enters his ears and his brain begins to process it, begins to realize that he wants-- _needs_ \--to hear that noise again. He nips again, a little bit rougher this time, distantly aware of the fact he’s probably leaving a few hickies behind on Ryuji’s skin but Akira’s not in his own _body_ enough right now to give a shit about it.

Arousal courses through him like a flame as he feels Ryuji’s hips buck up into him. He’s hard, Akira can feel it pressing up against him, he can see the arousal in Ryuji’s eyes as their eyes meet, and fucking hell, Akira has really, _really_ never wanted to suck someone’s dick so badly in his _life_ \--or maybe he wants to go further than that, to let Ryuji just bend him over the bed and just _take_ him--

Akira reels his thoughts in, forcing himself to focus on the moment, on the here and now, instead of his horny fantasies that he will _definitely_ never think about again. _Ever._

They're both panting lightly, maintaining eye contact as Akira tries to resist the urge to grind down against Ryuji. It’s starting to feel like a losing battle, but Ryuji clears the silence by clearing his throat and beginning to speak.

“S-so, it’s your turn now, yeah?”

Oh, right. Akira's actions had an actual, specified purpose, other than just… Making Ryuji feel good because Ryuji was Ryuji and Akira wanted to make him feel good. They were doing something. Yeah. Right. Practicing, or... whatever.

Akira nods his head, feeling a little dumb, hit with both disappointment and relief. Something nags in the back of his head and he remembers that he was planning on diverting Ryuji’s attention just to make sure the blonde didn’t catch a whiff of Akira’s weakness.

Despite everything, Akira _was_ the leader, and he didn’t want any member of his team to ever, ever know he had weaknesses of any sort. 

Maybe that was unfair. 

No, scratch that. It _was_ unfair, for sure. But that’s how it has to be, Akira reasons with himself. He needed to be someone they could rely on, no matter what. And thus, no weaknesses were allowed, even ones that might not matter in the context of the Phantom Thieves.

Akira knows he's harsh on himself. But it's necessary. _No weaknesses._ He didn't--he _couldn’t_ \--allow himself that luxury.

He just needs to hope Ryuji doesn’t find it out on his own. They were best friends, after all, and the blonde had learned how to read his best friend. Sometimes, no matter how well he thought he was hiding, Ryuji would find him, which gave Akira reason enough to be a little bit nervous.

“Your turn to ravish me, Ryuji.” Akira says, but the way he’s still trying to catch his breath betrays the confidence in his voice. Knowing that they can’t really do anything in this position, Akira stands, legs shaking. He quickly realizes that Ryuji shouldn’t be emulating his earlier position on his knees, what with his leg and all. His brain runs through solutions, and eventually he finds one.

He props the pillow up against the wall, leaning up against it. He opens up his legs, leaving a space on the bed for Ryuji to sit. He pats the empty spot, and Ryuji seems to understand the different position because his eyes soften and he smiles just a little bit, the glimmer in his eyes seeming like gratitude.

“So, where should I start? Same as you, from bottom to top?” Ryuji asks, looking a little bit lost, and Akira’s reminded of a puppy waiting for permission. It’s… cute.

Thankfully, Akira’s already thought up of a diversion to ensure Ryuji won’t find out about his weak spot. “The other way, maybe? Start at the neck and work your way down?”

There. That way, he’ll just pass by it and nothing will ever happen. It can be a secret Akira takes to his grave.

“M’kay.” Ryuji nods. He pauses, staring at Akira, looking deep in his eyes, reading his expression. Akira feels himself get a little bit on edge, worried that Ryuji will find what he’s been trying to hide. But the blonde’s gaze stops at Akira’s shirt. He reaches out, tugging on the hem. “Take your shirt off, dude.”

Akira lets out a breath he didn’t know was holding and nods. “Sure. Hold on a sec.” He wiggles out of his long sleeved pajama shirt, letting it fall to the ground in the same place as the rest of their clothes. 

Cool. Now it’s just the two of them, in Akira’s bed, in only their underwear, trying to find each other’s erogenous zones. In retrospect, this entire situation is incredibly ridiculous. If Akira hadn’t lived it, he’d be left wondering endlessly about how in the hell they’d got this far. Actually, even though he _had_ lived it, part of him still didn’t fully understand.

Oh, right, and they were both hard. Important facts. Ryuji was rock solid, though, and Akira was more so just sitting there, half-hard.

“Alright, there we go.” Akira resists the urge to fold his arms, cross his legs. He tries his best to not close himself off, despite his instinct to hide away within himself. An instinctive smirk makes its way onto his face--more Joker than Akira, really, but still--he can’t fight it, feeling himself grin, canines bared. There’s challenge glinting in his eyes and Akira can’t help the arousal still burning in his gut. “ _Ravage me,_ Ryuji.”

Ryuji laughs at him. Laughs at him! 

“Hey.” Akira frowns, shaking his head. “Appreciate me and my overdramatic tendencies.”

“I’m about to, man.” He replies, scooting closer, kind of… resting his legs around Akira’s waist, not quite wrapping them around. Ryuji stares for a second at his best friend, examining him, and Akira wonders if that’s how he looked when staring at Ryuji. “Sooo… neck, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Akira says, looking at his best friend and realizing with a jolt that he _fucking left marks on Ryuji’s neck._ This is somehow a shocking realization. “Shit. Dude. I--I kinda, uh…” He vaguely gestures at Ryuji’s neck, and the blonde shoots him a confused look.

After a couple of seconds, though, he seems to get it. “Oh, fuck. Did you leave--”

“Uh-huh. Sorry. I guess I, uh… got a little bit carried away?” Akira rubs the back of his neck, looking away as he feels his face flush. Ryuji looks good with them, though, but there’s no easy way to say that to his face. 

“...’S fine,” Ryuji’s fingers graze over the red and purple hickies on his neck, ghosting over the bruises. “I guess we’ll practice coverin’ hickies up too, yeah? Don’t worry, man, I’ll give as good as I got!” 

At Ryuji’s words, Akira can feel anxiety and tension dispel from his body. Thank god he wasn’t mad. But--wait, wait, _what?_ Give back as good as he got? That’s a compliment, which Akira feels himself glower with pride at, but does that mean Ryuji plans to--?

The blonde leans in, lips grazing against Akira’s neck and oh god that _does_ mean he’s planning what Akira thinks he is.

Ryuji skips all the other steps Akira took and simply bites down, not sucking, just biting. He bites down _hard._

“ _Ow,_ fuck!” 

“Shit, are you okay?” Ryuji pulls away, looking up into Akira’s eyes, concerned. “Did that hurt?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Akira mumbles, touching his neck. No blood. It hurt, but it didn’t feel… bad. “Probably shouldn’t try that with anyone else, though. Unless they like pain, I guess. So, less teeth, more… uhh, sucking?”

“Real helpful explanation.” 

Smacking his best friend lightly on the shoulder, Akira shakes his head. “Shut up! Like you’d be any better at explaining it. I don’t know, just… sort of suck on it. I mean, you don’t _need_ to completely not use teeth. But if you’re aiming to leave a mark, it’s more sucking than biting.”

“Well, that’s a little bit more helpful.” Ryuji replies, and then pauses, staring at his best friend. “So, the amount of teeth depends on the person, yeah? Guess it makes enough sense.”

“Like I said,” Akira gestures with his hands, “It just depends on if the person likes pain or not. And if they do like it, then you have to figure out how much pain they like.”

“What about you?”

“...What _about_ me?”

Ryuji lowers his gaze, staring at the bed instead. “How do you like it?”

“Oh, uh,” Akira can feel his ears start to burn. Hopefully Ryuji doesn’t notice. “I... guess I don’t mind some pain. Like, more than others, y’know?”

“You don’t _mind_ it?” The blonde raises an eyebrow, looking almost skeptical. “So do you like it or not?”

Akira considers answering Ryuji’s question with another question: _Hey, weren’t we doing this so we could use our observation skills to figure out what our theoretical partners would like? Isn’t me giving you the answer cheating?_

But instead, he fiddles with a curl hanging in front of his eyes, twisting it, pulling it. Akira can’t help but feel a little bit bashful. He doesn’t like admitting he likes things. He doesn’t like admitting he desires anything, either. This seemed to fit into both categories and thus set him on edge. “I… like it, I guess.”

He can’t fight the blush, or the shyness creeping into his voice.

“Huh. I kinda expected that, actually. What with how you act in the Metaverse and all, I mean. You just sorta seem like the type.” Ryuji replies, casual as anything. 

“What does that even _mean?_ ” Akira asks, but in truth, he gets what the blonde means. He did seem like the type to like being bitten.

Ryuji just shrugs his shoulders. “Still, though, it’s pretty cute seein’ you get all embarrassed like this.” His grin is shit-eating and Akira wants to wipe it right off his face, maybe with his lips, pressing their lips together, but he doesn’t. He doesn't.

Instead, he watches as Ryuji leans in again.

He does it better this time, sucking right where Akira’s neck met his collarbone. He applies just the right amount of tongue and teeth, and Akira’s reduced to chewing on his lip so he doesn’t let any unsavory noises slip out. Once he’s satisfied with his work, Ryuji pulls away, carefully examining the mark he’d left behind.

“Looks different from the bruises we get in the Metaverse.” He comments, poking at it gently.

“I think it’s a different type of bruise, maybe? I mean, hickies are just breaking blood vessels, right? Though, I guess maybe normal bruises are like that too? Actually, I don’t know. Don’t listen to me. We can just google it later.” 

“Ehh, I dunno either. Guess we’ll have no choice but google, huh.” Ryuji touches his own neck, pressing down on one of the bruises Akira had left behind. “Hey, how many did you leave on me?” 

Akira pauses, counting the hickies on Ryuji’s neck. “Four. Why?”

Ryuji’s expression speaks volumes, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. Akira feels his stomach do a weird thing at the sight, like it flipped upside down and then rightside up again. It’s a weird feeling, but by no means unpleasant.

“You’ll see."

Akira counts each time Ryuji puts his lips on his neck, gnawing, pulling away, pressing gentle kisses as he moves to another spot. He finally starts to understand, as Ryuji pulls away after leaving a fifth hickey on Akira’s neck. “You’re so petty.”

“Heh. You’re just mad because I left more on you than on me.”

“Bold words for someone within biting distance.” Akira counters, eyes gleaming with challenge. He tries to lean in closer so he can nip at Ryuji’s neck again, but the blonde covers Akira’s mouth. In retaliation, Akira swipes his tongue across Ryuji’s palm.

“Hey!” Ryuji screeches, pulling his hand away. “Cheater!”

“I literally sucked your fingers but you’re drawing the line at me licking your palm?”

“Whatever, man!” Ryuji wipes his hand on the bed. “Anyways, no doing anything to me! It’s _your_ turn, dude!”

Akira deadpans. “I didn’t know we had rules for this.”

“We don’t, ‘cuz if we did, you’d just break ‘em. I’m just _tellin’_ you that it’s your turn, and that you ain’t allowed to do jack shit to me. So, right, what’s next, huh? Arms ‘n shit? Hands, too, but I don’t think I’m gonna do what you did. Actually, I’m not waiting for your answer. Gimme your hands.”

“Who’s the burglar now?” Akira mutters, trying to stifle the urge to be defiant. He hands Ryuji his hands and the blonde takes them with a smile, which, of course, makes something weird and fluttery appear in Akira’s chest. Cool. Awesome. Ten out of ten. Would have weird fluttery feelings for his best friend again. Totally recommend it.

Ryuji runs his fingers across Akira's palms, nails gently scraping against his skin, down his wrists. It tickles, but it doesn't feel like anything else. It doesn't even tickle--it just sort of makes Akira feel itchy. Ryuji examines his best friend's face, trying to read it. "Nothing, huh?"

"Yup. Guess I'm not gonna nut by rubbing my hands against a random surface. What a shame."

The blonde snorts at that. "I think I'd laugh my ass off at you if you did that. You'd be creamin' your pants like, every damn day!"

"That sounds like waaaay too much laundry." Akira bemoans, imagining needing to do a load for a load every goddamn day. It sounds like a nightmare, not to mention the added embarrassment of orgasming in public. 

Well. 

Hm.

Actually, no, Akira's not going to think about this right now. There's a time and place, and here, in his bedroom, with Ryuji's hands on his body, was _not_ the best time for Akira to dwell on how hot the idea of risky public sex was. He can think about it later. Much later.

"Right? Kinda glad erogenous zones don't work that way. Though apparently you _can_ come from 'em. Seems kinda nice, like, hands-off action?"

Akira raises an eyebrow. "Is it really hands-off action if you'd be getting touched?"

"Ehhh, guess not." Ryuji replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Y'know what I mean, though. Anyways, uhhh, next is… hips? I'm not you, so I'm not including the bellybutton."

"I never said the bellybutton counted, I just wanted to poke it! I was _tempted,_ Ryuji!"

"Excuses, excuses." The blonde laughs, running his hands down Akira's sides, nails scraping against skin, his hands settling on Akira's hips, gripping tightly and--oh. _Oh._

Akira feels his cock twitch in his briefs. For some reason, Ryuji's grip on his hips sent an almost electrifying feeling down his back. He tries not to let it show, flattening his expression and forcing himself to breathe evenly.

Ryuji's grip tightens and his nails dig into Akira's skin and _this_ time, he can't hold back a gasp. 

Silence settles between them. Ryuji hasn't _moved_ his hands but he's stopped moving them. "Did I find one?"

Akira wants to shake his head and protest, but he _can't_ , not with the distracting pressure of Ryuji's hands on his hips. Ryuji holds on harder and Akira feels his hips involuntarily buck into his touch. Fuck.

"I'm taking that as a yes." He says, with a grin, and Akira would roll his eyes if he wasn't so distracted with the mental crisis currently happening in the recesses of his brain.

He didn't know he had this weakness and that's sending him spiralling. But, if Ryuji found one weakness did that make it okay for him to find another? Was that allowed? It's hard to think, it's hard to breathe, Ryuji's _still_ groping the sensitive parts of his hips and Akira just gives up on all rational thought entirely and lets Ryuji touch him.

"You okay?" Ryuji asks, quietly. 

Akira can't manage much more than a nod. "Mhm." His hips aren't the _most_ sensitive place on his body but they are up there, and the mere knowledge that Ryuji's seen him-- _made_ him come a little bit undone makes all the thoughts in his brain go slightly incoherent. 

"Does it feel good?"

"...Yeah." 

Ryuji breathes out a laugh, digging his nails into Akira's skin, dragging his fingers across so that red lines are left behind as he scratches Akira with his nails. "What about that?"

"Good," He replies, trying to regain any semblance of composure. Having a sensitive body was all fun and games until you remember you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves and thus can't show any weakness. "It's good."

And it is. Akira's chest feels heavy with guilt but the contrasting pleasure is… 

"Should I move on?"

Akira opens his eyes. When did he close them? The world comes into focus again, Ryuji's gaze is warm on his skin and Akira blinks. Once. Twice. "...If you want to. The whole point of this is… was…" Something. The point was something. Something-something heterosexuality, whatever. 

"Mmm," Ryuji hums, still gripping Akira's hips. "Seems like a shame when you're obviously enjoyin' it so much, dude. Heh."

Akira feels himself frown. "Shut up. Smug." 

Ryuji laughs. "Hey, I have every right to be! Dude, you shoulda seen your face. Man…" Maybe it's the shitty attic lighting but Akira thinks he sees a deepening flush on Ryuji's cheeks. "Anyways, uh, back of the knees, thighs… Huh. Good thing your legs are open already."

Akira moves his leg to kick Ryuji in the ass. "Don't say it like that!"

"Ow! Drama queen!" But he's laughing, grinning. Ryuji runs his hands down Akira's legs, lifting them up so Akira's feet are resting flat on the bed. He runs his fingers across the backside of his best friend's knee, and Akira laughs. "Does it tickle?"

"Y-Yeah," Akira says, flinching when Ryuji tries it with the other one. "Hey, it tickles! Knock it off--!" He laughs, stretching his leg out to gently nudge Ryuji's shoulder with his foot. 

Ryuji's laughing too. "Don't put your dirty feet in my face!"

"I _literally_ just washed them! You were there!"

They dissolve into a fit of childish giggles, Ryuji grabbing Akira's foot which makes him shriek because he's ticklish there, too, and they playfight for a little bit, still not moving positions.

Ryuji's still in between Akira's legs, and the latter male has his legs wrapped around Ryuji's back, his ankles crossed. They stare at each other.

The blonde clears his throat. "Uh, right. Inner thighs next. It did it for me, y'think it'll do it for you?" 

Akira shoots him a coy grin. "Only one way to find out, dude. Hurry up!"

Ryuji snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm goin'. Hold your horses."

 _Like what, Kelpie?_ Akira amuses himself with the thought. 

Ryuji runs his fingers across Akira's inner thighs. Similar to before, he introduces a little bit of nail into his touches, gently scratching at the skin. 

Akira can feel a tiny twinge of pleasure, but it's nowhere near the reaction that Ryuji had, and it's not comparable to the feeling of being touched in more sensitive areas on his own body. When Ryuji looks up at him, Akira simply shrugs. "It's okay, I guess."

"Huh. Well, I guess obviously everyone can't have the same spots they like bein' touched in." Ryuji's stroking Akira's thighs with his thumb now, in smooth circles.

Akira feels like he might enjoy tongue and teeth on his thighs, needlessly sharp canines digging into his skin, biting and sucking, leaving a mark or two, or _five._ He counts in his head, trying to find a number to stop at.

Wow. Ryuji was right. Being into biting is possibly the least surprising kink Akira has.

"Hmm," Ryuji mutters, reaching behind Akira's hips to grab his phone. "I swear there was more than this? I know we skipped a couple, but…"

Oh, shit. _It_ was on the list, which was exactly why Akira had snatched the phone in the first place, so Ryuji hopefully wouldn't remember everything on the list but it's not like Akira could just slap the phone out of his hands without being obviously suspicious about it.

He feels a little bit nervous now, more nervous than he's been the entire time, because he knows just what exactly that spot does to him. Even touching it on his own was enough to make him gasp and moan, get him ready and raring to go--Akira couldn't imagine what it was like being touched there by someone else. 

Ryuji scrolls down the article silently and Akira begins to rethink his plan on _not_ knocking the phone out of Ryuji's hands. Maybe he can come up with a really, really good and totally plausible excuse, like a cockroach on the back of his phone or something. Hissing cockroach. With wings and bright red eyes. Yeah. That'd work, maybe.

"Oh, yeah, there's a couple. Nipples, armpits--ugh, hell no--and… ears."

 _Fuck._ Fuck. Fuck, he said it.

Akira feels his heart start to race and his eyes dart anywhere else other than at Ryuji's. He stares at the corner of the attic, he stares at his TV, he stares at the ruined lockpick still sitting on top of his desk, forgotten. Maybe he can say he really needs to get back to that lockpick. Would that work?

Ryuji doesn't seem to notice Akira's internal crisis and if he does he doesn't say anything. He runs his hands up Akira's ribcage, eyes narrowing for a brief, brief second--Akira recognizes that look of Ryuji's: angry, upset, fiercely protective. 

In a way, it makes Akira smile. It makes him feel safe, maybe. Ryuji wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. He wanted to protect his precious leader, Akira knew that much. He knew just how much his best friend cared about him, and...

Maybe… maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’s okay if Ryuji knows.

Ryuji ghosts his fingers underneath Akira's armpits, sliding the pads of his fingers across Akira's chest, pressing against his nipple, squeezing it gently. There's a weird look on his face.

"Ryuji?"

"It's taking so much of my self control to not give you a purple nurple, man. Like, _all_ my self control."

Akira slaps his hands away, covering his chest. "Hands off my nipples. I don't trust like that."

"Hey, I wasn't gonna do it! I said I was _tempted,_ man!"

Thinking to Ryuji's bellybutton, Akira just shakes his head. "You're a stronger man than I, Ryuji."

"Mm, I dunno about that, man." He says, with a laugh, but Akira doesn't miss that flash of self-deprecation in his best friend's eyes, or the way Ryuji stares at the fading scars from that day in November on Akira’s body. He wants to reach out, cup Ryuji's cheek in his hand, stroke his face gently… but he doesn't. "Anyways, ears now."

Oh, shit. Akira had gotten legitimately lost in Ryuji's eyes and forgotten the reality of the situation. 

It's--it's fine, maybe he can, like, power through. Grin and bear it. Maybe not grin. Hopefully not show any emotion at all. Maybe Akira can act totally unassuming. Yeah, he's always had a good poker face, this was totally gonna be fine!

But when Ryuji's finger strokes the shell of Akira's ear and he's immediately slapped with an unavoidable jolt of pleasure, he realizes that it is _not_ going to be fine. He's gonna die here.

He thinks his expression didn't change, probably, but he _is_ holding his breath. Hopefully Ryuji doesn't notice.

Again, the blonde runs his finger down the shell of Akira's ear, touching the way too sensitive skin, and Akira restrains himself from emoting, gasping, giving any kind of sign that, yes, his best friend touching his _ear_ feels good enough that Akira's semi-convinced he could die from it.

"Your ears're gettin' red, man."

Well, fuck. Akira can put on a mask, hide his emotion, bite back his moans, but he has yet to find a way to stop himself from blushing. He tries to think of a response. A good one. But his traitorous brain comes up with jack shit and then Ryuji's touching him again so all thoughts go out the window anyway.

He traces Akira's ear with his finger, circling around, looping, stopping at the lobe and sort of--rubbing it in between his fingers and Akira has to bite down on his tongue to hold back a moan. Fuck. He can't--he can't handle this, he can't let Ryuji see him like this, can't let his teammate, his _best friend_ know he has weaknesses. He can't. He just can't--

Before he can think it through, Akira's hands are on Ryuji's chest, pushing him away. His breaths come out heavy, not quite pants. He's wide eyed staring at Ryuji, realizing that he just pushed him away and that _probably_ deserves an explanation. 

"Aki, you okay?" Ryuji asks, voice soft, delicate, caring. Fuck. It's too much, hearing him speak like that. Akira knows doesn't deserve it.

"Y-yeah, I'm--" _Fine,_ he wants to say, but the words don't quite come out. His ears are still burning. He can still feel the ghost of Ryuji's fingers on his skin and it's _distracting._ He wants to get up and run away, to bury his head in some sand like an ostrich, or maybe just curl up somewhere in a phantom thief shaped hole and die of shame.

"...Did it feel good?" Ryuji asks, eventually. 

And… Akira doesn't know how to answer. He can't answer. He _can't_ answer truthfully, he just… He just can't. 

Ryuji waits and waits, but seems to realize Akira isn't going to answer. He musses up his hair with one hand, thinking. "Do you… wanna stop?"

Oh. That question Akira _can_ answer. Even though shyness overtakes him, and his face and ears and neck are _burning_ \--he feels like one of Yusuke's lobsters, but boiled alive--despite all of this, Akira manages to shake his head.

_No, I don't want to stop._

"Okay. I'm gonna… keep touchin' you then, okay? If you wanna stop, just… tell me. Tap the back of my neck or somethin', yeah?"

Akira nods his head. Ryuji gets closer again. He feels his breath hitch, tensing in anticipation of being touched again, in arguably one of the most sensitive parts of his entire body. Stupidly sensitive, really. 

Slowly, gently, Ryuji reaches out to run his finger against the shell of Akira’s right ear. He traces the shapes, circling around, pressing against the lobe as Akira gasps as quietly as he can. His breath hitches, and he feels himself twitch. “Still okay?”

God, _yes._

“Mhmm.” Akira replies, leaning into the blonde’s touch. And with that, Ryuji keeps touching him, keeps stroking him, keeps his gaze fixed on Akira like he’s a piece of art or something. It makes his head spin.

And part of him knows he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to be touched in a way that brings him any sort of pleasure but it’s just practice, isn’t it? But does that make it okay? He’s not sure. Akira, for once, doesn’t have any answers and doesn’t know how to even begin searching for them.

“Aki, hey.” Ryuji says, and Akira looks over at him. He’d kept his eyes firmly set on the corner of his room during his weird spiraling thoughts. Judging by the look of concern Ryuji was wearing, Akira’s thoughts might have been showing on his face. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Akira opens his mouth. Closes it. He tries to figure out how to respond but again, comes up with absolutely nothing, so he just shrugs. 

There wasn’t any easy way for him to explain that, yeah, he hadn’t felt like he’s deserving of anything for way too long. There wasn’t a gentle way to say that Akira didn’t allow himself weakness, didn’t allow himself pleasure, didn’t allow anything that made him anything other than picturequese, perfect, someone they could rely on and depend on and--

“Tell me if you want to stop.” Ryuji says, and before Akira has time to ask him what exactly he means by that, he feels pressure, _teeth,_ a sharp spark on his ear, pain mixing with pleasure, a white hot flame igniting and stifling all other thoughts in his brain.

This time, Akira can't hold back the noise that slips out. Even Ryuji seems surprised by Akira's moan, but it seems to just egg him on. Seemingly reenergized and filled with new-found vigor, Ryuji continues to bite and suck on Akira's earlobe.

Akira wants to cover his mouth because goddamn his moans were _embarrassing,_ his voice wavering and waning with each swipe of Ryuji's tongue. It feels so good, so goddamn good, it feels _unfairly_ good, sinfully good--

The blonde reaches out, touching Akira's other ear with his hand, nails gently scraping down and Akira cries out, squeezing his eyes shut. He mumbles an incoherent string of curses as Ryuji touches both of his ears at once, biting his lip to try and muffle the moans spilling out of his mouth. Keyword _try._

Akira can feel his dick straining against his underwear, _god,_ he's so hard, he's so turned on that he's dripping, leaking precum that wets the very front of his briefs. He shifts against Ryuji, trying to get more friction, trying to get more sensations, trying to get more, more, _more._

Akira twitches and jolts, losing himself to the feeling. Arousal burns and burns in his stomach, in his dick, in his legs--fuck, just in every part of his body. It shoots up and down to his fingers and his toes, shocking like lighting, like electricity, like the ziodyne that lurks on Ryuji's hands after they leave the Metaverse. 

Fuck, could he come like this? Akira tries to dig into his memory, trying to remember the last time he'd gotten off but it was months and months ago. The last time he did it was before his arrest. To say it's 'been a while' would be an _understatement._

"Ryuji," Akira gasps, and his heart stops when he realizes that he'd just moaned his best friend's name, but at the same time he doesn't care. "I--do you remember how that article said it was possible to come from--"

Ryuji nods his head, still working on Akira's ears. He's sucking a hickey into Akira's chin, peppering kisses and bruises all along his neck and shoulders. When he's done, he resumes fiddling with Akira's weak point.

"Yeah, I remember. Why, do you think you're gonna--"

" _Yes._ " Akira replies _immediately_. Yes, yes, a million times yes. With each teasing touch he's getting closer and closer to the edge, getting dangerously close to tipping off and plummeting face first into the orgasm abyss. "S-so, if it makes you feel uncomfortable then we can stop--"

"Are _you_ uncomfortable?" Ryuji asks, plainly. Akira shakes his head. "It's fine, them. I don't mind if you get off from this, man. If anything, it's a compliment, yeah?"

"...Mm…" Akira hums, feeling himself sink further and further into pleasure. As of on a whim, he opens his eyes, and--

The pair lock eyes. Something hangs in the air between them. Something that they can't avoid or hide. Something they can't just ignore.

Akira's ears feel slightly wet but definitely warm. They still tingle, Ryuji's touch lurking, the electricity in the tips of his fingers leaving crackling sparks on Akira's skin. The distance between them begins to close. They seem to lean in at the exact same time, pressing their lips together without hesitation or pause. 

They kiss feverishly, desperately. 

Ryuji's right hand settles on Akira's hip, grip tightening. His left hand strokes his best friend's ear, grinning through the kiss as he swallows up Akira's moans.

The kiss they share is passionate, burning hot and bright. Akira pulls Ryuji closer, close enough that their chests touch. His hands run through Ryuji's hair, tugging at bleach blonde strands as he moans into his best friend's mouth. They grind up against one another, chasing pleasure.

“Fuck,” Akira swears, pulling away so he can _breathe,_ because it’s like he’s forgotten how. He can feel pressure in his stomach, feel it pulsing, he knows it’s coming. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around Ryuji’s back, pulling him closer. His fingernails scrape crescent moon shaped divets in his best friend’s skin. “Ryuji, Ryuji, Ryuji--”

Akira cries out his name like a gift, like a prayer, like he’s begging--and he’s close, he’s so, _so_ close, he’s almost there, his body has begun to spasm and tense. He moans out a mixture of slurred sentences, curses, and Ryuji’s name--and god, god, _yes,_ he’s going to--

From downstairs, the bell chimes and the door opens. Sojiro calls out, sounding a little bit irritated. “Akira, did you get my text?”

Akira and Ryuji stare at each other, wide eyed with horror. They hastily climb off of each other, blushing bright red to the tips of their ears as they attempt to catch their breaths. Pulling their clothes off the floor, they get dressed as quickly as they can.

“U-um, no, my phone was off, sorry! What is it, Sojiro-san?” Akira asks, standing up on shaky legs. He stands at the top of the stairs, one arm wrapped around his neck, trying to hide any marks just in case Sojiro peers upstairs. He’s still trying to catch his breath, gnawing at his lip.

“Wasn’t sure if the stove was off. It kept bugging me, and then the cat started meowing. Took it as a sign that he thought it was left on or something. I texted you but you didn’t reply, figured you might be asleep.”

“You didn’t want to call LeBlanc’s phone?” 

"Didn't seem like much of a point if you weren't answering your cellphone. It was faster to come and check myself. The cat seemed like he wanted to come back, anyways.”

Oh, _fuck._

As if on queue, Morgana’s little footsteps are audible from downstairs. “ _Akiiiraaaa!_ ” He calls, starting to climb up the stairs. Thank fucking god they had the sense to get dressed, because it’d be hard to explain if they were still in their underwear. "Are you still awake?"

Morgana pauses at the top of the steps, staring at Akira, who’s avoiding eye contact and still subtly, covering his neck with his hands. Ryuji, meanwhile, is sitting on Akira’s bed with his head in his hands. The cat stares at them both, looking from Akira to Ryuji, to Ryuji and then Akira again.

“Why is Ryuji wearing your shirt?”

_What?_

Akira looks over at Ryuji and--yeah, he is. He looks down at himself, realizing _he’s_ wearing _Ryuji’s_ shirt. In their haste to get dressed, neither of them managed to notice they’d switched shirts, which is, in all honestly, an amazingly _stupid_ mistake to make, considering Ryuji wore near exclusively bright colors and Akira was wearing black.

“Um.” Akira replies, which totally answers Morgana’s question. Luckily, the cat doesn’t seem to mind much. He walks over to the bed, where Ryuji’s still groaning into his hands.

“What’s with you?” Morgana asks, and Ryuji just shakes his head, finally releasing himself from his... hand prison. “You know, it’s already really late. Boss was watching TV and suddenly realized he left the stove on, and I figured you two hadn’t even gone to bed yet, and I was right! See, Akira, this is why you need me around! You’re gonna be _so_ tired in the morning!”

“Sure am.” Akira mumbles, arms crossed over his chest. Yeah, his boner is totally gone. And from the looks of it, Ryuji’s is too. He briefly considers just grabbing the blonde by the arm, pulling him into LeBlanc’s bathroom and finishing in there, but Morgana’s sudden cry breaks him out of weighing the pros and cons of an impulsive horny decision.

“What happened to your neck?! You’re covered in bruises, Akira!” 

Akira realizes he’s condemned to spend the rest of the night explaining to Morgana that yes, he’s okay, no, Morgana doesn’t need to bring up these bruises to anyone, _ever,_ no, he and Ryuji weren’t going out and picking fights with random people and just happened to get covered in bruises, some of which had indents that looked _suspiciously_ like teeth. 

Akira also considers the fact there’s no fucking _way_ even Shujin’s turtleneck is going to cover the array of hickies Ryuji had left behind, and tries to remember where he left his foundation. He thinks he might need to lend his best friend a hand in applying makeup, because the hickies on Ryuji’s neck were _anything_ but subtle.

Still, though, when he accidentally catches Ryuji’s eye and his best friend gives him a grin that’s really more of a smirk and taps his ear with his hand, a knowing glint in his eyes, Akira decides that it was so totally worth it--and in the end?

It wasn’t weird at all.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: the google doc name for this fic was "hoes of passion" because my friend who in part kind of enabled me with this fic misread a line from an article about erogenous zones that was "throes of passion" as "hoes of passion" and i thought it was so fucking funny and very heavily considered making it the title of this fic but eventually decided against it (edit: as of 5/5/20, i decided this fic deserved to be called hoes of passion, the former title was "it's not weird unless you make it weird"
> 
> other fun fact: when i first started writing this i was like "haha, this'll barely be longer than 2k words!" i was wrong. don't ask me what happened. i don't know
> 
> "is it even possible for someone to react like that via having their ears touched" tragically i do know someone who reacts exactly like that
> 
> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed :)


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